


Full Throttle

by Evoxine



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bikers, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Minor Violence, Piercings, Riding, Rimming, Strangers to Lovers, Tattoos, somewhat of a slow build
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-01
Updated: 2018-11-01
Packaged: 2019-08-14 05:06:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16486469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evoxine/pseuds/Evoxine
Summary: Jongin's life is simple. He spends his days at his auto shop and his nights at the biker bar, and whenever he races, he always walks away with a win and a fatter wallet. His Ducati has been the love of his life for years.But things change somewhat when a new biker comes into town and challenges the status quo right off the bat.





	Full Throttle

**Author's Note:**

> SUPPORT **DON'T MESS UP MY TEMPO**!!!!

She’s the love of his life. Jongin spends a disgusting amount of time every Saturday afternoon in his garage fine-tuning his Ducati, sitting on a chair by her side as music plays out of shitty portable speakers. Loki is a beauty, immense power and irresistible sex appeal packed together in a sleek, black frame. She purrs in satisfaction between his legs whenever he takes her out for a spin, and Jongin is halfway to being addicted to the exhilaration she brings out in him.

It’s a bloody hot day, and Jongin is sweating his ass off despite chugging a can of chilled beer and not wearing anything but a loose pair of basketball shorts. But he willingly puts up with it, because Loki deserves all of his time and attention. He’s in the middle of wiping her down with a microfiber cloth when he hears someone pull up in his driveway.

Jongin lives by himself just outside the hustle and bustle of town, so it isn’t a big surprise that his house – although small and in desperate need of a new coat of paint – is his gang’s favourite hangout spot. He looks up to see Minseok, his childhood friend, dismounting his bike.

“You’re not replying to the group chat, so I’m the unlucky one that’s been dispatched to see if you’ll be coming to the bar tonight before the race.”

Snorting, Jongin turns back to his bike. “You live down the street.”

“I could have been doing something important.”

“Like playing Call of Duty?”

Minseok flops down onto a stool and fixes Jongin with a look. “Shut up.”

Rummaging around in the cooler for another can of beer, Jongin lobs it over to his friend. “Yeah, I’ll be there.”

 

 

 

  
_Spotlight_ is the go-to bar in the city for bikers. It’s far from the heart of town, but it sits close enough to the race tracks for the ride to be worth it. The desert stretches out for miles and miles behind it, giving races the extra kick of freedom that makes most bikers come back for more.

Dozens and dozens of bikes are parked outside by the time Jongin arrives. While _Spotlight_ is only ever this packed once a month during race night, Jongin and his gang come here regularly, the place too close to Jongin’s heart for him to consider going anywhere else.

The bar is run by a middle-aged woman by the name of Camilla, hair still naturally pitch dark and eyes a steely shade of grey that softens imperceptibly whenever she catches sight of Jongin. Camilla is a friend of Jongin’s mother, and she’s been around since Jongin was a baby, crawling around in oversized diapers. Since his mother’s passing, Camilla has taken on the role of keeping Jongin in check, and he has more than enough respect for her to always abide by her rules. She is the closest thing he has to family and Jongin intends on keeping her around for as long as he’s able to.

“Hey, Cam.” Jongin leans over the bar and gives her a kiss on the cheek. “Been doing well?”

“Could be better,” she answers, deftly drying three beer mugs at once, “if you’d come to visit me more often.” Jongin gives her a sheepish smile and accepts the glass of vodka and coke she hands over. Camilla refuses to accept Jongin’s money, as per usual.

“I’ve been busy,” he says with an exaggerated pout. It’s not a lie, he’s been covering for Chanyeol at the auto garage the gang had established not too long ago. The man is out of town visiting his girlfriend and Jongin has the spare time, so he’d offered to pick up Chanyeol’s shifts.

Camilla gives him a once-over and cracks a rare smile. “You look good. At least you’ve been taking care of yourself, hm?”

“Doing my best,” Jongin grins. She waves him towards his friends with a fond shake of her head and Jongin takes his leave after giving her another kiss.

His friends, sans Chanyeol, are all squished into their usual booth.

“Sweet little Mikey has been giving us the death glare for the past fifteen minutes,” Jongdae informs him when he squeezes between Yixing and Kyungsoo. “He seems really intent on winning today.”

“Fat chance of that happening,” Kyungsoo snorts, “even with Chanyeol gone.”

Jongin can’t help the surge of smugness that comes with the truth of those words. They’re unrivalled in the street racing scene, each member having taken to the dusty, self-made tracks like a fish to water. Well, apart from Baekhyun – he doesn’t race, preferring the quaintness of his Vespa to the bulkiness of the others’ bikes. It isn’t hard to take home more than a few thousand dollars per person after a race, especially if big names are competing against each other.

They eat and drink – only one drink until the race is over –, stopping only when Camilla rings the large brass bell hanging off one of the beams. The race is commencing in ten minutes, and bikers in the second, third, and fourth legs of the race should leave to get to their positions.

It’s a relay race this month, with four bikers per gang on the track. Grabbing one last handful of nuts, Jongin drains the rest of his drink and stands, Yixing and Jongdae following suit.

“Do me proud,” he says, clapping Minseok on the shoulder. For relay races, Minseok is always the first leg, and Jongin is always the last, while the rest of the gang rotate amongst themselves for the other positions.

“Don’t I always?” Minseok replies, grinning over the rim of his glass.

 

 

 

  
The track boundaries are lit up with portable lights and safety barriers, along with markers placed every 250m for reference. Spectators huddle up behind the makeshift fence, phones in hand as they get ready to film the race. There’s enough space between the starting and finish lines of each leg for the biker to slow down, and the completion of each leg is signalled by a beep in the next biker’s earpiece. It’s not the most accurate way, but it’s street racing after all, and it’ll have to do. Besides, there’s never any doubt as to who the winner is.

Jongin waits at his starting line, Loki a comforting presence between his legs. If he squints into the distance, he can just about make out Yixing’s figure as he speeds through the second leg of the race. The desert is lit up with orange light, cutting into the darkness of night for a shot of adrenaline. Picking up his helmet, Jongin pulls it on and snaps the visor shut before giving Loki a quick once over to make sure everything is working just fine.

A second beep sounds in his earpiece, signalling the change from the second biker to the third. He can feel Mikey’s eyes on him from the next lane over, heated enough to bore through the thickness of his helmet, but he’s too focused on the race to give the other man any thought.

Seconds tick by and Jongin throws one last look behind his shoulder to gauge where Jongdae is before he starts Loki’s engine and feels her come to life. Kicking back the kickstand, he gets into position, sinking low enough to feel his chest flat against her tank.

The second he hears a beep, he’s off.

When he’s racing, the world narrows down to him, his bike, and the track. Wind whips against his body as he melds with Loki and they breathe as one. Loki is an extension of him – she moves with him, so finely attuned to each minute movement of Jongin’s body that he never has to struggle with controlling her. It’s a drug he constantly craves and he’s lucky enough to be able to get his fix.

The desert hurtles past in a blur of lights and muted sand. Jongin doesn’t think about where the other bikers are, confident enough in his abilities to simply focus on getting to the finish line. Dust smears itself all over Jongin’s pants as he executes turn after turn, but he never minds, instead choosing to wear the dirtiness as a mark of accomplishment.

There’s no one in front of him when he crosses the finish line, finishing the race almost a full four seconds ahead of the rest. Satisfied, Jongin doesn’t wait for the rest, choosing to zip back towards the bar.

His gang is already waiting by the front, each one of them donning matching grins when they spot Jongin rumbling towards them. He kills the engine, gives Loki a loving pat on her tank, and dismounts. She’s in need of a wipe down, but Jongin will wait until he gets home to clean her.

“Great job,” he says with a smirk, pulling off his helmet and letting Jongdae yank him into a hug. “Time to get our payout, boys.”

He strides into _Spotlight_ and tosses Camilla a victorious grin. “All the drinks are on me!”

The entire establishment erupts in cheers. Mikey will likely be the only grumpy one – he’s a sore loser –, but Jongin has long since learned how to put up with him.

 

 

 

  
Jongin’s in the middle of dunking a handful of fries into chipotle mayo when a loud crash sounds from behind him. He turns around and spots an overturned table, scattered chairs, and broken dishes on the floor. Next to the mess are two men, fists curled as they throw punches at each other. One of them looks familiar – he’s likely a member of one of the other biker gangs that took part in the race today –, but Jongin doesn’t recognise the other.

“Hey!” Camilla barks, stepping out from behind the bar. “Take it outside!”

Instead of doing so, the biker’s fellow gang members choose that moment to step in. The stranger gives as good as he’s got, but it isn’t long before he’s laid out on the floor, curled in on himself as blow after blow lands on his body.

“Break it up!” Jongin says, striding over. The rest of his gang follows, falling easily into step behind him.

“This asshole insulted Jeorge,” someone snarls, pulling his arm back for another punch. Ah, it’s George with a J.

Minseok steps in and grabs onto the guy’s wrist.

“Your buddy Jeorge is whining over his loss when he doesn’t know how to fucking ride a bike,” the stranger spits, wiping blood off the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand. “It’s been years since I’ve last seen him and he clearly hasn’t improved a fucking bit.”

Behind Jongin, Baekhyun and Yixing share an interested look.

“Say that again to my face, you fucker, and –”

“Back _off_ ,” Jongin interrupts, shoving Jeorge back with two hands against a sweaty chest.

“You don’t know how to ride a bike,” the stranger repeats, and Jongin really has to give it to him – he’s clearly not afraid of getting his face beat in. “You want to know why you always lose so fucking badly? You’re never tucked in – and I’ve been telling you this for years, haven’t I? – your chest is always inches off the tank, so how do you expect your centre of gravity to stay low? When you go around a curve and your rear tire starts to slide, you chop the throttle instead of holding off on it until the tire hooks back up.”

He staggers to his feet and jerks his thumb at a surprised Jongin. “This guy’s gang always wins because they know their bikes. Dude, you don’t even seem to know the full extent of your bike’s suspension, and I’d bet anything you downshift after missing a shift. They know not to launch at the starting line, they know not to rush a corner entrance – they know their shit, Jeorge, do _you_?”

With a sneer that has its effect somehow dulled by the bruise blooming across his eye socket, he storms out of the bar with a bunch of stunned bikers in his wake. Baekhyun lets out a low whistle.

Utterly embarrassed and sporting his own shiner, Jeorge shrugs out of Jongin’s grip and disappears into the bathroom with his buddies in tow. Baekhyun lets out another low whistle.

Camilla sighs and reaches behind the bar for one of the many first aid kits she keeps there. Passing it over to Jongin, she tilts her chin towards the front door.

“Deal with him, sweetheart. I’ll get the mess cleaned up.”

“I’ll help you clean,” Yixing offers, and he gets a fond pinch to the cheek in reward.

Jongin steps outside and scans the area. It’s still quite busy out here, so it takes him a few minutes to spot the person he’s looking for. The guy’s standing by what Jongin assumes is his bike, a grimace evident on his face as he prods at his jaw.

“Need some patching up?”

Dark eyes slide over to him. “I’ll be fine, thanks.”

“If I don’t patch you up, Camilla will lecture me.”

A tongue darts out to lick at the bloody cut on his bottom lip, and Jongin catches a glimpse of silver along with the action.

“Alright.”

Jongin walks over to a bunch of crates and sits down on one. “I’m Jongin.”

“I know who you are,” comes the answer. The guy sits, gingerly, and exhales once he’s settled. “I’m Sehun.”

“I haven’t seen you around here before,” Jongin says, digging through the kit for a bottle of antiseptic.

“That's because I'm not from around here,” Sehun replies, eyes trained on Jongin’s hands as he wads up some cotton and soaks it with the liquid. “Moved here not too long ago.” He winces, sentence cut short when Jongin dabs the antiseptic over the cuts that are scattered all over his face.

“Sorry,” Jongin says. “Just a little more, yeah?” He moves down to the wounds on Sehun’s knuckles. “Lift up your shirt for me.”

When Sehun does so, Jongin blanches. The man’s torso is covered with bruises, the worst of them concentrated on his ribs. There are no open wounds that Jongin can see, but the pain coming from the cuts on Sehun’s face will pale in comparison to the bruises in just a few hours. There’s a very high chance that he has some fractured ribs.

“Holy shit. Wait here, I’m gonna go get you some ice packs.”

When he gets back, Sehun’s leaning against a crate with his eyes closed, breathing evenly but shallowly. The cut beneath his right eye is bound to leave a scar, Jongin thinks.

“Here, hold these against your ribs while I deal with the cuts.”

Sehun is quiet while Jongin works at painstakingly closing each cut with a butterfly closure.

“You seem to know your stuff,” Jongin says after a few minutes, effectively breaking the silence. Sehun scoffs, then sighs.

“Got my first bike when I was sixteen. Lived far enough from the city for late night rides without fear of getting caught by cops. Met Jeorge when I was nineteen – we rode together sometimes, learned a few tricks and stuff from other bikers. Somehow I’m not surprised he’s still an amateur.”

Jongin has to laugh at that. “Yeah, he’s definitely not the best I’ve raced against.”

“Life got too busy for a few years after all that,” Sehun says, grunting in discomfort as he adjusts the ice packs. “Haven’t had a chance to really enjoy being back on a bike until the recent weeks.”

“Do you race?”

“Not like this,” Sehun answers, waving a vague hand towards the scene sprawled out in front of him. “Not anymore.”

There’s clearly so much more to the story, but Jongin doesn’t press.

“There, all done. You can keep those ice packs – they’re reusable. Make sure to keep icing them for a few days and take some ibuprofen if you need to. I wouldn’t be surprised if you fractured some ribs, so try to sleep upright if you can.”

He gets another glimpse of Sehun’s tongue piercing when the man licks his lips again.

“I will. Thanks.”

Jongin watches as Sehun climbs onto his bike, movements awkward and stilted from his injuries. It’s a nice bike – a Kawasaki, one of the 2010 models.

“Might wanna go slow,” Jongin advises. Sehun looks over his shoulder with his helmet in hand and crooks an eyebrow in amusement.

He takes care in putting the helmet on, not wanting to aggravate his… well, entire body. “Yeah, I got it.”

The engine roars to life and Sehun peels out of the lot, disappearing down the road in seconds.

 

 

 

  
It’s a slow day at the auto shop, but Jongin isn’t complaining whatsoever. Kyungsoo’s in the office doing god knows what, so Jongin relaxes out in the work area of the shop, lazily plucking at the guitar in his lap as he lazes on the couch.

Jongin dozes off at some point. It’s late into the afternoon by the time he’s roused by the recognisable rumble of a motorcycle, loud enough to tell him that the bike is actually in the shop, not just passing by outside.

He cracks an eye open to see a familiar face peering down at him.

“Oh, it’s you,” Jongin croaks. He tries to sit up, but it seems as though the entire left of his body is asleep, and he can’t help but flop limply back onto the pillows. Sehun fails to fight back the amused smile that graces his lips. Jongin pretends that he isn’t blushing and rolls his eyes.

“Looks like you healed up fine.” It’s true – Sehun looks almost modelesque up close and not pummelled half to death. There are faint hints of kohl smudged around his eyes and it serves to intensify the pull of the man’s gaze almost ten-fold. Also, Jongin notes with surprise, it turns out that he was right about the scar. It’s there, a small mark that’s faint but still noticeable under the right light.

“Yeah, thanks again.”

“Don’t worry about it.” Dragging his gaze off Sehun, he looks past him and sees the Kawasaki waiting patiently out on the shop floor. “So what are you here for?”

“I need new spark plugs,” Sehun tells him. “I’ve been putting it off for a while and I feel like a bad owner.”

After the tingling finally subsides, Jongin stands and walks over to the bike.

“I can service the entire engine if you want,” Jongin says, kneeling and peering at the Kawasaki. “Might as well, you know?”

Sehun hums his agreement.

As Jongin works, Sehun sits a few feet away and watches.

“Didn’t know this shop was yours.”

“Oh, it’s not mine. You could say that it’s a joint venture of sorts,” Jongin says distractedly. Too focused on cleaning out the carburettor, he doesn’t notice that Sehun had moved until a shadow falls over him. He startles, nearly dropping the wire brush in his hand.

“I hope you don’t mind if I observe? I should probably learn how to do this myself since I have the time to spare now.”

Jongin clears his throat and pulls Sehun over to his other side. For a split second, he feels the flutter of Sehun’s pulse against his thumb, the sensation disappearing the moment he lets go of the man’s wrist. “You’d block the light if you stood there,” he mumbles.

He’s painfully aware of Sehun’s rapt attention as he works – there’s something about the man that knocks him off-guard, but he maintains his professionalism and gets the job done.

“All done,” he declares, putting his tools away and brushing his hands down the front of his work jeans. “Quite straightforward, yeah? If you do end up doing this yourself, we sell all the parts here for a decent price if you need them.”

Sehun hums, placing a gentle palm on the Kawasaki’s seat.

“You seem to really enjoy bikes,” Sehun comments, gaze rising along with Jongin as the latter stands.

“I guess I’m quite passionate about them,” Jongin laughs. He turns and points to Loki, the Ducati sitting prettily in her own corner of the shop. “She’s my pride and joy.”

“She’s quite beautiful,” Sehun agrees. He reaches into his pocket for his wallet and the movement pulls Jongin’s attention south for the first time. Christ, those are some tight jeans wrapped around some _really_ long legs. “Suits you.”

“Huh?” Jongin rips his gaze away from those legs and stares dazedly at Sehun. “What?”

“I said that the Ducati suits you,” Sehun says, lips quirking. “How much do I owe you?”

“Oh, uh, it’s on the house.”

Surprised, Sehun’s fingers pause in the act of flipping his wallet open. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Jongin says, sounding a little too nonchalant for his liking. “You can buy my friends and I a round of drinks the next time we end up at _Spotlight_ instead.”

Sehun agrees, slipping his wallet back into his pocket. This time, Jongin keeps his eyes firmly on the man’s face, even as Sehun swings a leg over his bike and gets ready to leave.

“See you around,” Sehun says over his shoulder. Jongin doesn’t even manage to formulate a response before Sehun’s out of the shop, the reverberation of his bike fading with each passing second.

Jongin has a nagging feeling that he definitely will be seeing more of Sehun around.

 

 

 

  
Chanyeol’s back and it’s even harder to move a pinky when they’re all packed in around their table. But it’s nice having him back, his larger-than-life personality something that everyone, even Kyungsoo, has missed. They’re all a little tipsy, the table cluttered with half-empty glasses of alcohol and pitchers of beer. Chanyeol’s in the middle of regaling the gang with a _very_ explicit story – he gets ridiculously talkative once alcohol seeps into his system.

“Heads up, boys.”

A waitress hefts several large pitchers of beer and a bottle of vodka onto the table, foam slopping off the edges with the movement.

“Thanks, Lina, but we didn’t –”

“Oh, it’s from the guy by the bar,” she replies, mopping up the spill with a damp cloth.

Everyone looks over at the bar, but Jongin already knows who the drinks are from before he even turns around. Sehun’s there, a glass in his hand as he talks to Camilla. She seems very interested in what he has to say, and judging by the animated way Sehun gestures as he speaks, he seems quite invested in telling her his story.

“Is it just me, or does he look familiar?” Kyungsoo asks, squinting through the dim light. He only ever wears his contacts when he’s racing, something the rest of them never fail to nag him for.

“He’s the guy that schooled Jeorge-with-a-J,” Baekhyun informs him, and Chanyeol immediately rounds on him for deets.

“Oh right. Why’d he buy us all drinks?”

Jongin raises a hand. “I serviced his bike’s engine and said he could pay me back this way.”

“He was at the shop?”

“Yeah, two or three weeks ago. His bike’s quite nice.”

“Of course that’s what you notice,” Jongdae snorts, reaching for the basket of onion rings Minseok was hoarding.

 _Oh, I’ve noticed other things_ , Jongin thinks, _I’m just not sharing them with you_. He takes a gulp of his drink to keep his mouth occupied, eyes trained on the two by the bar. It’s as if Sehun has a sixth sense – barely a minute later, he suddenly turns around and instantly meets Jongin’s gaze. Camilla looks over as well, the little glint in her eyes sending shivers curling down Jongin’s spine.

Sehun lifts a finger in greeting, then promptly returns his attention to Camilla. For a moment, Jongin literally forgets where he is. Then Chanyeol lets out a low whistle.

“Damn, he sounds ballsy. Sounds like he knows what he’s talking about, too. Does he race?”

“He said he doesn’t, not anymore,” Jongin answers instinctively.

Before anyone else can reply, the door to the bar swings open and three hulking figures step in. Baekhyun titters in excitement.

“Oh my god, it’s Jeorge-with-a-J!”

They make their way over to the bar, and while Sehun doesn’t seem to realise what’s going on, Camilla’s face instantly hardens when she spots them.

“Don’t think I won’t kick you out if you start trouble,” she warns, loud enough for Jongin to hear.

“Not gonna,” he grunts, slumping against the bar and staring at Sehun. “I just want to challenge him to a race.”

The entire bar falls silent. There’s no way Sehun didn’t hear what he said, but Sehun barely acknowledges him. Instead, he continues speaking to Camilla – she’s more than a little discombobulated, but she easily re-engages with him – and slowly finishes the rest of his drink. When the empty glass hits the counter, he slides off the barstool and turns to face Jeorge.

“Alright. Once around the track.”

Chanyeol squeezes out of the booth and waves his arms. “I’ll film!”

 

 

 

  
The sun is sinking deeper into the horizon, smeared orange-gold giving the sky a low glow. Sehun’s visor is tinted enough to obscure his eyes, but Jongin doesn’t have to glimpse the man’s face to know that he isn’t worried in the slightest. His Kawasaki is already ready to go, a low, constant growl in the back of her throat like a lioness ready to pounce.

Jeorge is a few metres away, somehow managing to fit all of his mass onto a bike that’s smaller than Sehun’s. Chanyeol, a good distance behind them, has a GoPro mounted on the front of his bike meant to record the entire race. It’s not his race to win, but he’s clearly the most excited out of the three, fingers drumming out a quick beat on his handgrips.

“One lap,” Baekhyun drawls, spinning a small flag around in his hands. “A race for pride! On your marks –”

One look at Jeorge and Jongin already knows the man has lost. He remembers what Sehun said all those weeks ago – he really doesn’t keep his chest flat against the tank.

“– Get set, go!”

Wheels kick up small clouds of dust and sand that clear up to reveal the three bikers steadily growing smaller by the second. Less than a minute later, they’re all out of sight.

It’s not a long course, approximately 6 kilometres per lap with a total of 17 turns. Within two minutes, Jongin sees a figure loom around the last bend and fly through the last stretch of straight road.

By the time Jeorge crosses the finish line, the Kawasaki is quiet, Sehun’s helmet is hanging off a handgrip, and the biker himself is already on his feet looking like he just took a stroll in a park. Well, the streaks of dirt and dust on his pants and around the soles of his boots give him away, but his facial expression is one of calm.

“Hey,” Baekhyun says, sidling up to Sehun. “How do you ride a bike in those pants?”

Sehun doesn’t miss a beat. “They’re stretchy,” he explains, and tugs on the fabric just to prove it. It’s funny, how Jongin can almost see the hearts exploding out of Baekhyun’s eyes.

Chanyeol cruises in and slows to a stop.

“Holy shit,” he says the moment he yanks his helmet off. Jeorge flinches at his exclamation. “Dude, he’s so good. Better than me, at least. You guys have to see this.” He darts back into the bar, the doors swinging merrily in his wake.

Camilla’s fiddling with an old laptop when Jongin heads inside, and over two dozen patrons gather around the tiny screen, staff included. Chanyeol plugs the SD card into a reader and loads the file, practically crackling with poorly contained excitement.

Constant swerving and dust clouds make the video difficult to watch – details are lost and there are moments where the two bikers disappear from view for short moments. Even so, it’s clear to everyone watching that Sehun knows what he’s doing.

“What time did you clock in at?” Kyungsoo suddenly asks, leaning past a wall of bodies to stare at Sehun.

“A minute and forty-six,” Sehun answers, picking absently at his nails. He’s back on his recently vacated barstool with a new drink resting by his elbow.

“Holy shit,” Chanyeol says again. “Jongin, isn’t that close to your time?”

Jongin simply nods, unable to look away from Sehun’s smoky gaze. The latter is the one who breaks their eye-contact, swivelling around in his seat when Camilla asks him something.

Baekhyun elbows his way out of the crowd and walks right up to Sehun. “Hey, you should join us.”

“I don’t race anymore,” is Sehun’s answer. “I’m afraid I won’t be of much use in a gang as active in racing as yours is. But thanks for the offer.”

His words hold such a strong sense of finality that Baekhyun simply gapes at him in stunned silence until Minseok reaches out to pull him away. Camilla catches Jongin’s gaze – she shrugs a shoulder, brows drawn, and Jongin wonders what she knows.

 

 

 

  
Although they refer to themselves as a biker gang, the closest thing to a crime they commit is the smoking of weed and the occasional bar fight that spirals out of control. But many still find them intimidating, what with their tattoos and piercings, wardrobes upon wardrobes of black leather clothing, and oversized motorcycles.

Jongin’s walking into the local supermarket for a few groceries when he spots a familiar figure leaning against the wall a few metres away from the entrance. A little girl and her mother walks by as well, the mother's nose wrinkling when they pass.

“You smoke?”

A slim cigarette sits between equally slim fingers. Sehun lets out a stream of smoke from between full lips and sighs, head dropping back to land against the concrete wall.

“Not usually. Only when I have to.”

Jongin acts before he has a chance to think it through – he reaches over and plucks the cigarette out of Sehun’s hand. “You shouldn’t smoke,” he says, then proceeds to take a drag. Exhaling, Jongin drops the cigarette to the ground and grinds his heel into it. When the smoke clears, he sees Sehun staring at him with equal parts of amusement and astonishment.

“Anyways, how good are you at selecting watermelons? I’m shit at it,” Jongin continues, pulling Sehun into the store with him.

That’s how they spend half an hour grocery shopping, with Sehun actually offering to help Jongin pick out his fruit as they engage in easy chitchat. They’re wandering through the pastry aisle (Jongin really likes those shitty mini cupcakes in plastic packaging) when Jongin finally asks the one question that he’s been wanting to ask.

“Why don’t you race anymore?”

Sehun stills, a bag of mini chocolate croissants crinkling in his hands.

Seconds tick by, and just as Jongin starts to wonder if he crossed a line, Sehun licks his lips and speaks.

“I was twenty-one. My best friend and I would sneak out of the dorms late at night and ride down to the highways, where we’d spend an hour or two just… racing each other. The roads are smoother and the bends are much easier to navigate compared to actual racetracks, and you would pretty much never see a car on the roads at that time. It took the edge off, you know? All the stress just fades away.”

He puts the croissants down, pauses, then picks them back up again. Jongin steps closer, takes the bag out of his hands, and places it in the cart. Sehun huffs out a weak laugh at that.

“There was a drunk driver one day. He didn’t have his lights on, and we were going around a bend at the same time he was. We swerved, but we weren’t quick enough. I broke a few bones. My friend died on the spot. I was the one who wanted to go out that night.”

Clearing his throat, Sehun moves a few steps down the aisle and absently grabs a bag of two-bite brownies.

“There are always so many racers during a race – I can’t risk something like that happening to someone else I know. That’s why I’ve stayed away from it. Jeorge was… I know the guy well enough to know that racing him was the only way to get him to lay off, but those two minutes were the most terrifying minutes of my life since the accident.”

Jongin puts the brownies into the cart, too.

“The accident wasn’t your fault.”

“I know that,” Sehun says a little too forcefully, his jaw working against all the tension he’s holding.

“Sorry, you’ve probably heard that way too many times, huh?”

He nudges the cart forward, partly to give Sehun a few extra moments and partly to collect his own thoughts. When he passes Sehun, he gives the man’s shoulder a squeeze and hopes it comes across as comforting.

He’s in the junk food aisle when Sehun catches up to him.

“Have you tried these before?” He points to a bag of fancy chips that cost – what the fuck, $8.

“No, are they good?” It’s a clear attempt at a change of subject and Jongin isn’t heartless enough to push further.

Sehun lifts a shoulder half-heartedly. “Yeah, they’re my favourite. You should try them.”

So Jongin puts two bags into the cart.

At the check-out counter, Jongin asks for an extra bag and shoves both bags of chips, the brownies, and the croissants into it.

“Here,” he says, holding the bag out. Sehun blinks at him. “For you.”

“You –” Sehun closes his eyes, takes a breath, and pulls Jongin over to where his bike is parked. “Hold on to that, put the rest of the groceries in your truck, and come with me.”

 

 

 

  
They’re heading deeper and deeper into the suburbs, shopping malls and tall apartment buildings giving way to houses and sprawling parks. He's close enough to Sehun – pressed up against his back, really – for to Jongin notice that Sehun doesn’t go past the speed limit and that the set of his shoulders is stiff, as if he’s ready for something bad to happen at any second. But once they’re past the outskirts of the city, the number of cars start to dwindle and Sehun eases up minutely.

He turns onto an offbeat road, trees beginning to loom up around them as they head further in. It’s a little bumpy, but the road soon fades out to soft sand, the treeline giving way to open sky. They’re by the seaside, the small strip of beach deserted apart from the two of them.

Slowing to a stop, Jongin gets off the bike and pulls the helmet off (Sehun had given him his own helmet to wear, and Jongin knows better than to decline), fluffing up his hair to get rid of the flatness. Sehun’s hunched over as he toes off his shoes, hair a ruffled mess thanks to the breeze.

“I come here a lot just to sit and let my brain run wild,” Sehun says, toes wriggling in the sand. “It’s off the highway and hidden behind all those trees – I’ve been here dozens of times and I’ve yet to come across another person.” He ventures towards the water and Jongin follows, remembering to grab the chips as he goes.

Water laps at their bare feet and Sehun leans forward to rest his chin on the flat of his bent knees. A little unsure of what to do, Jongin busies himself with opening a bag of chips and setting it between them.

“These used to be a treat,” Sehun says with a short laugh, dipping into the bag. “They’re not exactly easy on a college student’s wallet, you know?”

“No kidding,” Jongin comments, crunching down around an abnormally large chip. “It’s delicious though. Pleasantly surprised by how un-greasy it is.”

Sehun hums his agreement.

It is rather peaceful out here, Jongin has to admit, extraordinarily easy to lose yourself in your thoughts. Absently, he pulls a flattened pack of cigarettes from his pocket and lights up, attention fixed on a pair of gulls resting on a rock not too far from them.

He manages to get three puffs out of his cigarette before Sehun removes it from between his lips.

“You shouldn’t smoke,” he says with mock seriousness. He takes a long, pointed pull of the cancer stick, letting smoke curl lazily out of his mouth. Jongin can’t help but laugh.

“Okay, yeah, I deserved that.”

Sehun puts the cigarette out in a shallow puddle of water and brushes flakes of salt off his fingers.

“I like your ink,” Sehun comments, gesturing to the design on Jongin’s forearm.

“Yeah? Thanks. You should see Minseok if you haven't already though – he’s got two full sleeves.”

“That’s a big commitment.”

Jongin runs his thumb over the darkness of his inked skin. “It is, isn’t it? You have any ink of your own?”

“On my back,” Sehun answers. “Was an impulsive decision, honestly. I had a phase in college – my mother wasn’t very pleased when she saw it.” He laughs, a little wistful and a little fond. “She wasn’t pleased with a lot of things, really. The bike, the ink, the piercings – I was obnoxiously blond when I was in college so that probably didn’t make things better. She’s eighty-seven percent convinced no one will want to settle down with me for life.”

“My sister is sixty-three percent convinced,” Jongin says. “It was at seventy-nine, but then I opened the auto shop.” That coaxes a short burst of laughter out from Sehun and Jongin grins in response.

“Oh, I know someone else with a tongue piercing,” Jongin continues, “she would always play with it and the clicking of it against her teeth drove me insane.”

“I used to do that,” Sehun says sheepishly. “Grew out of it, thankfully.”

“Do you have any others?”

Sehun looks over at him, a roguish smile spreading slow and steady across his face. “Maybe one day you’ll find out.”

If that doesn’t trigger his interest, Jongin doesn’t know what else will.

They end up staying on the beach for hours, the steady push-pull of the waves lulling them into a deep sense of tranquillity. The sky is awash with pinks and golds when Jongin remembers he’s got milk in the truck.

“Oh shit, I think my milk is curdling.”

Sehun snorts.

“Come on then, I’ll send you back.”

At the bike, Sehun jingles his keys and asks, “You wanna ride it?”

“Really? Oh man, Loki is going to get so jealous.”

“Loki?”

“Love of my life,” Jongin grins. A vein twitches in Sehun’s temple. “Ever since I got her, I haven’t ridden any other bikes.”

“You –” Sehun stops, looking very much like a goldfish. “You named your bike?”

“Of course,” Jongin says, tugging on the helmet and swinging a leg over the Kawasaki. “You _didn’t_ name this beauty?”

Sehun rolls his eyes and gets onto the bike. He can feel Jongin’s chortles from how he’s pressed up against his back. “Oh my god, you’re so lame. Just go, please, for my sanity.”

 

 

 

  
The living room is packed to the brim with his friends – they’ve all gathered for their Monthly Bro Night. Minseok and Jongdae are engaged in a furious game of Monopoly with Baekhyun as their over-zealous banker, while Kyungsoo and Junmyeon are off in a corner with Jongin’s guitar, tipsily singing their hearts out. Chanyeol’s still at the shop and Yixing is at _Spotlight_ helping Camilla with something, but they’ll be here within the hour.

Jongin’s watching a gleeful Jongdae build his eighth hotel – Minseok is despairing – when someone bangs furiously on his door.

When he opens it, he gets an armful of someone and Yixing’s harried voice keeps ringing in his ears, saying “Fuck, fuck fuck _fuck_.”

The person in his arms groans and that’s when Jongin realises it’s Sehun. There’s something sticky against his fingertips from where they’re pressed against Sehun’s shoulders and Jongin pulls them away to see blood.

“What the hell happened,” Baekhyun demands, coming up behind him and helping Jongin carry him over to the couch.

“He was racing someone,” Yixing answers, fumbling around in his backpack for a first-aid kit that looks like it came from _Spotlight_. “Then all of a sudden, he looked like he lost control of the bike? Honestly, I’m not sure what happened. I just remember his bike pinning him down and dragging him into the bar. He looked like he’d been run over by ten horses. Someone drove us here – Cam insisted.”

Yixing’s recount of the situation takes Jongin completely by surprise. “He was racing? Voluntarily?”

A hand tightens around his wrist in warning, but it’s only seconds later that the grip slackens.

“I need a basin of water and a few cloths,” Jongin says, kneeling by the couch. “And a pair of scissors. I’m gonna have to cut your shirt off, Sehun. Don’t want to risk moving anything that’s injured.” Sehun lets out a weak grunt of acknowledgement.

Junmyeon rushes off to retrieve the items, all traces of alcohol gone from his system the second he laid eyes on Sehun’s battered body.

“This is the second time I’ve had to patch you up in what, four months? You’re going to kill yourself at this rate,” Jongin mutters, dipping a cloth into lukewarm water and squeezing out the excess. As Baekhyun gets to work snipping off Sehun’s tattered shirt, Jongin carefully wipes the grime and dried blood off the man’s arms and chest – he needs to be able to see the extent of the damage.

The cloth comes away filthy. Jongin doesn’t even bother rinsing it, simply reaching for a new one and repeating the process until new stains stop showing up on the cloth in his hands.

“Do you think you broke anything?”

“No, but I think I sprained my wrist,” Sehun says thickly, raising his left arm. There’s a simple brace around his wrist, likely placed there by Camilla before she sent them off. “And my left ankle.”

“What about your lower half?”

“Just feels bruised to hell and back.”

Jongin gets to work, wincing at the raw skin all down Sehun’s left side from where he’d skidded across rough terrain when his bike had overturned.

“If your wounds get infected over the next few days, I’m sending you to the hospital,” Jongin warns, smearing a thin layer of topical antibiotic over the abrasions on his arm before dressing them. “Can you sit up? I need to get to your back.”

It’s a struggle to get him to sit up – while his left side is bloodied and his joints are sprained; his right side had to bear the brunt of the Kawasaki’s weight when it crashed into a light post and flipped over onto him. His ribs are stained with blue-black and Jongin simply can’t believe nothing is broken or fractured.

With each swipe of the cloth over his back, an intricate design swims into view. It’s beautiful, Jongin thinks, the way it fans out over the left side of his back like the rays of a sun peeking over the horizon of his spine.

There are a few scrapes and cuts that Jongin cleans and places small bandages over. He sends someone into the kitchen to retrieve several ice packs – he wraps them up with thick t-shirts and places them beneath Sehun when he moves to lie back down.

“Can you lift your hips?”

Jongin’s in the middle of tugging Sehun’s pants down his legs when Chanyeol chooses that very moment to thunder into the house.

“I got the booze!” He declares, “Baekhyun, you better have the – _oh ho ho!_ What’s going on here!”

It’s a challenge to keep his voice even, especially when he notices that Sehun’s boxers have little _duckies_ on them. “He got into an accident. I’m patching him up.”

Kyungsoo pulls Chanyeol into the kitchen, probably to explain further, and Jongin returns his attention to the state of Sehun’s legs. His ankle is already swelling up badly and Jongin hurries to set an ice pack over it.

“You’re sure nothing is broken?”

“Yeah. I just need a handful of painkillers and ten days of sleep,” Sehun mumbles, sinking deeper into the cushions.

He’s out cold in seconds, leaving Jongin to exchange incredulous looks with the rest of his friends.

 

 

 

  
Jongin ends up playing doctor and host to Sehun for the next few weeks. He changes the dressings on Sehun’s wounds every day after he showers, ices the bruises until they fade to a pale green, and makes sure Sehun keeps his wrist and ankle elevated. His fridge has never been this filled – he does his best to stuff Sehun with nutrients that’ll help speed up his recovery. He even helps Sehun into the bath and scrubs his hair.

When Sehun doesn’t need him, Jongin heads into his garage and works on patching up Sehun’s Kawasaki that he has secretly named Ayra. It doesn’t come as a surprise to him that fixing her will take a lot of work, especially with the damage it sustained.

Sehun joins him when the swelling in his ankle goes down enough for him to hobble around with the help of a crutch, providing Jongin with company and assistance in passing over tools.

“So why’d you move here? You seem like a city boy to me.”

“It got too much,” Sehun says, flipping a small wrench over and over between the fingers of his good hand. “The people stifled me, the routine strung me out, the infinite numbers of skyscrapers made me feel completely insignificant. So I got on my bike and found my way here, somehow.”

“There’s not much to do around here,” Jongin quips, pulling the hem of his shirt up to mop at his brow.

“I like it. Fewer distractions from life, you know?”

Jongin nods, understanding, and cleans off the grime on the fork tube. “So how did you end up at _Spotlight_ that first time?”

“Ran into Jeorge at the hairdresser on my fifth day here. He invited me, actually. That’s probably why he got so mad when I called him out for shitty racing.”

Jongin barks out an astonished laugh. “Holy shit, yeah, I would definitely have gotten mad if I were him.”

With a lazy smirk, Sehun leans back in his seat and runs his piercing through his teeth.

After a week, the swelling in Sehun’s wrist goes down enough for the brace to come off. It’s good progress, but Jongin still forces him to keep it elevated and iced. His ankle, on the other hand, looks like it needs a lot more time.

On Day Thirteen, Jongin passes by his bedroom door after a shower – he’d given his bed to Sehun, sleeping on the pull-out couch for the time being – and hears the man groaning miserably.

“Are you okay?” Jongin asks, sticking his head around the doorframe.

“Look, your house is cosy and lovely and all, but I’m going _stir-crazy_ in here,” Sehun bemoans, his injured ankle propped up on two thick pillows as he throttles a third in his hands.

“Well, I’d bring you out, but you hate crutches and you can’t put any weight on your left foot.”

Sehun lets out another loud, dramatic wail.

“Okay, okay,” Jongin winces. “Let me get dressed and we’ll go for a drive or something.”

Ten minutes later and they’re piled into the cab of Jongin’s truck, Sehun’s legs slung over Jongin’s thighs for support.

“Where to?”

Sehun rolls down the window and curls up against the seat. “Anywhere.”

So Jongin drives until they’re a couple of hundred kilometres away from the heart of their town. They end up on a hill, looking out over vast areas of grassland with the occasional house sprinkled across its surface. Jongin helps Sehun hobble out of the truck and onto the truck bed before dipping back into the cab for a blanket that he’s taken to keeping inside ever since his previous girlfriend had a fondness for picnics.

“If only we had food,” Sehun muses, fiddling with the blanket as Jongin finds something to keep his foot elevated. After shoving his toolkit under Sehun’s calf, Jongin straightens and grins.

“Check my backpack.”

Sehun pulls out a huge bag of two-bite brownies and a large thermos filled with milk. The delight that spreads across his face does something funny to Jongin’s heart, but he doesn’t have time to think about it before Sehun rips open the bag and shoves a whole brownie into his mouth with glee.

The autumn breeze is pleasant, cold enough to match the warmth of the blanket but not too cold to cause chilled fingers and toes. By the time the brownies are finished, Jongin finds himself with the thermos in his hands and Sehun’s head on his shoulder as the latter dozes.

What happens next, Jongin blames on the scent of his own shampoo.

He turns, just barely, and catches a whiff of the shampoo clinging to Sehun’s hair. It’s an easy scent to recognise – he uses the same shampoo, after all –, but there’s a pleasant difference to it that can only be due to Sehun’s own scent. So he inhales again, and before he knows it, he’s pressing a kiss to the crown of Sehun’s head.

It takes him a second or two to fully register what he just did, and once it sinks in, Jongin can feel the bones in his feet rattling from how hard his heart is pounding in his chest.

The next week or so passes by in a haze. Jongin doesn’t quite understand what’s going on with him, but he manages to find solace in the fact that Sehun doesn’t seem to notice a difference in his behaviour. He ends up spending so much time (hiding) in the garage that by the time Sehun’s able to move around on his own, he is done patching up Ayra.

“Jongdae’s offered to ride her back when I drop you off at home tomorrow,” Jongin says, giving Ayra’s gleaming body one last wipe down. “Do not get on a bike before your ankle is fully healed, or I swear I will kill you myself.”

Sehun gives him a cheeky smile and takes the keys out of Jongin’s hand.

“By the way, I’ve christened her.”

“Yeah? What’s her name?”

“Ayra,” Jongin answers. “Strong and fiery, like you.”

Sehun hums, sounding contemplative, and runs a gentle hand over her seat. He doesn’t say anything for a while, just stands there with a hand on his bike like he’s thinking through something huge.

Then he steps into Jongin’s personal space and leans in close enough for Jongin to feel air across his lips.

“Thanks,” he murmurs. Jongin stares right at the bow of his upper lip. “For everything.”

Jongin can only nod dumbly. But when Sehun turns to walk away, Jongin finds himself reaching out and pressing the tips of his fingers against Sehun’s jaw, his thumb on one side of his chin while the rest of his fingers are splayed out on the other. The touch stops Sehun in his tracks and the pressure coaxes him to turn his head, where Jongin meets him in the middle.

It’s the briefest brush of lips, but it’s enough to send them both reeling back for some sliver of composure before they return for more.

 _God_ , this time – this time, every single nerve ignites when their lips slot together, and the push towards each other is magnetic. The fingers flitting by Sehun’s jaw slide up to cradle the base of his neck and Sehun yanks Jongin flush against him with his good arm around Jongin’s waist.

Jongin finally gets to do what he now realises he’s been wanting to do for weeks: licking into Sehun’s mouth, he curls his tongue around the barbell for a heartbeat or two before pulling back. His blood sizzles with want when Sehun chases his mouth, taking a step forward and pushing Jongin against the worktable behind him.

The edge of the table digs into the small of his back, and Jongin can only take so much before he has to break the kiss once more.

“My back,” he gasps, a hand fitting into the curve between Sehun’s neck and shoulder. Sehun slams down on his mental brakes, fingers curling into the fabric of Jongin’s shirt as he catches his breath.

“Sorry.” Their faces are still mere inches apart and Jongin is trying his best not to look down at kissed-slick lips.

Dilated pupils gradually contract as their breathing evens out and their hearts slow to a steady pulse.

“I should probably,” Sehun begins, forehead coming to rest against Jongin’s, “finish packing my things.”

“Probably,” Jongin agrees, thumb skirting along the thin skin behind Sehun’s ear.

They end up making out for another twenty-three minutes, this time with Sehun sitting on the workbench – his ankle is still healing – and Jongin between his legs. Behind them, Ayra waits obediently for Sehun’s attention to return to her.

 

 

 

  
Having taken so many weeks off, Jongin spends day after day at the garage just to make up for the number of shifts his friends have had to cover for him. He finishes up on a couple of motorcycles sitting in the shop, catches up on paperwork, and scrubs the whole place down.

He’s been getting home much too late to be able to drop by the bar, so when he finally finds the time to do so, winter has already crept up on him in full force. The warmth of _Spotlight_ washes over his frozen nose when he hurries inside, and the aroma of spiced hot chocolate has him feeling like a child wrapped in a fluffy blanket by a roaring fireplace.

Too preoccupied with unknotting his scarf from around his neck, he doesn’t notice the new hire behind the bar until he has finished placing his order.

“You need some help there?”

Jongin’s head snaps up, numb hands still around the scarf.

“Sehun?”

“Hey,” Sehun says, a lilt of laughter evident in his voice. He’s got a clean glass in hand and a bottle of alcohol in the other.

“What are you doing?”

“Making your drink?” Sehun raises an eyebrow and pours. Camilla walks over from the other end of the bar and leans on the counter, patting Jongin’s pink cheek with a warm hand.

“I hired him,” she says with a twinkle in her eyes. “He’s a nice man, a quick learner, and I enjoy the company.”

Jongin gapes at her, too stunned to do anything when she peels his hands away from his scarf and whips it off him in one easy motion. His drink appears in front of him and Jongin follows the line of Sehun’s hand up to his arm, then up to his face. The man has the tiniest smirk on his lips as he turns away to attend to another customer – Jongin flushes with a sudden surge of heat.

“He’s a nice man,” Camilla repeats pointedly. The woman knows too much, Jongin thinks frantically, grabbing his scarf and drink before spinning around on his heel and running off to his friends.

Barely an hour later, Jongin walks right into Sehun after exiting the washroom. Momentum sees Jongin’s weight nudge Sehun back a few steps, the man’s heels colliding with a case of empty beer bottles.

“Sorry,” Jongin says, hands grabbing onto slim hips out of pure instinct. “You okay?”

“I’m okay, don’t worry about it.”

“How’s your ankle?”

“It healed fine, no pain whatsoever now.”

“And Ayra?”

The corner of Sehun’s mouth quirks upwards. “She’s fine, too. I don’t know what you did to her, but she runs smoother than she ever has.”

Jongin just has to preen at that. “It’s a secret,” he says with a shrug. “But I’m glad you like it.”

His hands are still on Sehun’s hips – he feels a strip of warm skin between the hemline of Sehun’s shirt and the waistband of those stupidly tight jeans, and it brings him right back to the first time they kissed a couple of weeks ago.

It seems as though Sehun’s thinking the exact same thing because he leans in to tug on the curve of Jongin’s bottom lip with his teeth, soothing the slight sting with a gentle press of his lips.

“I gotta go get stuff from the back,” Sehun mumbles against his lips, stealing another kiss before slipping away and past a door marked with a handmade sign saying _Employees Only._

Jongin returns to his table looking more than a little dazed, and Kyungsoo pinches him. Hard.

“Dude, what’s with you?”

“Nothing,” Jongin says, rubbing the sore spot on his arm. “So Yixing, you were saying something about that guy at work?”

He catches movement out of the corner of his eye and turns to spot Sehun walking back towards the bar with a couple of boxes in hand. Their eyes meet, and for a quivering second, all trains of thought hightail it out of Jongin’s mind.

 

 

 

  
It’s Christmas Eve, which means that it’s time for the annual Christmas race. The set up of this particular race is a little different – instead of a relay, each of the four bikers will do a full lap of the course and the times will be added up. Thanks to Baekhyun, there is another difference: every biker participating in the race is forced to have their bikes decorated with tinsel and mistletoe.

Jongin takes one look at the large bunch of mistletoe Baekhyun has in his hands and groans. It’s _glittery_ , for goodness sakes.

“Baek, please don’t ruin Loki with that.”

His friend simply beams at him and brandishes his roll of tape. The mistletoe is hanging off the side of the fuel tank when Jongin hears his phone ring and he jumps at the chance to escape the hell that is watching his precious bike get ruined.

“Hello?”

“Hey,” Minseok’s voice crackles through the line. “I can’t make it tonight, dude. My grandparents surprised me by flying down to see me for the holidays, and I have to go pick them up from the airport in an hour. Sorry for the super late notice, but you’re gonna have to find a substitute.”

That will prove to be a problem, Jongin realises as he looks around the crowded bar. The only members of his gang that are here are Baekhyun and the ones racing; the others have family plans that they can’t get out of. Rules dictate that if all members aren’t present, a group is expected to forfeit the race – something that Jongin’s gang has never done in the past six years.

Panic starts to set in and Jongin is just about to Google how much eggnog will make him horribly sick before he catches sight of someone that might just save the night.

He squeezes through the crowd and lunges forward just in time to catch Sehun by the wrist.

“I know this is a lot to ask,” he begins as Sehun blinks at him in surprise, “but would you be willing to fill in for Minseok in the race?”

As expected, Sehun’s expression shutters off at the request.

“Jongin, you know I don’t race. You saw what happened the last time – I got on the track, froze, and wiped out. You don’t want me racing for you, I promise you that.”

He pries his wrist out of Jongin’s grip and continues towards the direction of the kitchen, but Jongin isn’t the type to give up so easily.

“You’re the only one I know who can do this.” Sehun sighs, shoulders dropping as kohl-rimmed eyes look at anywhere but Jongin’s face. “I’ve seen you race and you’re as good as any of us. The only thing stopping you is your mind, Sehun. You have to let it go someday, don’t you?”

“You want to know why I was racing that last time? I wanted to let it go, but look where it got me. If I couldn’t even finish a race in which I knew no one, how do you expect me to complete _this_ race?”

Jongin frowns and Sehun lets out another heavy sigh.

“There are people I care about in this race. I’m not racing, Jongin.”

He disappears past heavy set doors before Jongin has the chance to utter a single word.

 

 

 

  
“Cam, where is he?”

Camilla smiles at him and points at the back door.

The stench of cigarettes hits him square in the face the second he steps out into the alley. Sehun’s leaning against the brick wall and staring at a lit cigarette pinched between his thumb and forefinger. Ash flakes off the end and flutters to the ground, accompanied by sparks of dying ember.

“You shouldn’t smoke.”

Sehun snorts and drops the cigarette, covering it with the sole of his shoe.

“You trust me, right?” Jongin asks. It’s abrupt, but Sehun doesn’t look taken aback by the question.

“Yes.”

“And I trust you.”

Sehun says nothing.

“So you should trust me that I trust you.”

“That makes no sense, Jongin.”

Frustrated (and a little desperate), Jongin reaches out and yanks Sehun’s face close, saying a simple, “ _Trust me_ ,” before he kisses him deep enough to taste the spiced cider Sehun had hours ago.

“You won’t hurt me. You’re not racing with me,” Jongin whispers against the softness of lips. “You know that, right? We won't be on the track at the same time.” 

He tilts Sehun’s head just a little lower and kisses him on the forehead.

Three minutes later, he bursts into the main area of the bar and hollers, “Baekhyun! Decorate Sehun’s bike!”

Camilla grins to herself behind the counter.

 

 

 

  
The leather of his gloves are stiff and Jongin has to open and close his fists a few times for the material to give.

For the first time, Jongin finds himself at the starting line for the first lap. He’d given Sehun his position, thinking that being in charge of the finishing lap would take away most of the fear of someone getting hurt since fewer bikes would be around. Baekhyun zips up his jacket for him and pats the top of his helmet, giving him a big thumbs up that Jongin returns.

The barricades and lights are decorated with cheap tinsel as well, and the spectators all don Santa hats. Chanyeol and Kyungsoo are already waiting a few metres behind with their bikes while Sehun is still busy getting appropriately dressed for the event.

A minute or two later, the first warning beep sounds in their earpieces. Jongin bends low to give Loki a kiss on her tank, the vibrations of her engine music to his bones. The second beep sounds. Jongin nudges the kickstand back, gloved fingers resting over the brake levers and palms firm on the throttles. He glances over at the entrance to _Spotlight_ – Sehun walks out right when the last beep sounds and Jongin sets off at full throttle.

Everything is over in a couple of minutes. He’s the first one over the line – of course – and a glance at the scoreboard for his time has him feeling good about the race. By the time Jongin parks Loki and pulls off his helmet, the second group is already gone, mere specks in the distance that eventually get swallowed up by the darkness of a winter’s night.

Light bounces off the shiny surface of Sehun’s helmet, a deep midnight blue that reminds Jongin of the rider himself. He walks over and stands by the jut of Sehun’s knee from where his foot rests on the footpeg.

“Just focus on the sound of Ayra’s engine, the rush of your blood, the wind against your frame.”

He can’t see Sehun’s eyes from behind the visor, but they’re probably just as alluring as ever.

His attention is momentarily robbed when Chanyeol comes zooming over the finish line with a whoop loud enough for everyone to hear. Kyungsoo takes his position with an exasperated shake of his head – Chanyeol lost to Mikey _and_ he still makes this much noise.

Then fingers slide between his own. Their gloves are thick and Jongin can’t feel the ridges of Sehun’s knuckles, but just the fact that he has Sehun’s fingers laced with his own makes him feel like he’s already won the race.

Sehun squeezes once and gently untangles their fingers.

The spectators’ cheering fades to a muted sound when Jongin spots Kyungsoo turning around the last bend and onto the last stretch. The lights are suddenly overly bright and Jongin squints against the glare as he follows Sehun over to the starting line.

“You’ll do fine,” Jongin assures, a palm flat on the small of Sehun’s back as blood pulses in his ears. He doesn’t quite know if it’s for Sehun’s benefit or his own.

 

 

 

  
It feels as though the cloud of dust is still settling around Jongin when his ears pick up on the soft, yet familiar sound of Ayra speeding through the desert. Sure enough, two beams of lights cut through the night, growing in size and brightness until the bike skids to a stop inches away from Jongin’s knees.

Everyone is deathly silent for a moment or two when they realise Sehun’s time. Jongin doesn’t even care for the time or the results of the race, because Sehun’s dropping his helmet onto the ground and striding purposefully over to him, half of his face obscured by shadows.

He’s swept into the most heartstopping kiss of his life, the hands on either side of his face smelling sharply of new leather and the crisp desert air that he can almost taste when he parts his lips. Baekhyun’s shriek rings loud and clear, but Jongin pays him no mind as he kisses back, a daring hand slipping down the curve of Sehun’s butt to cup a cheek.

“I think you beat my time,” Jongin exhales, feeling a little lightheaded from how Sehun has managed to kiss the breath out of his lungs.

“Yeah? What’s my prize?” Sehun manages to squeeze a kiss in between each word.

“Apart from the money?”

“Mmm,” Sehun hums, fingers pushing against the short hairs on Jongin’s nape.

“Well, I still have a bag of your favourite chips back at my place.”

When they break apart to get onto their respective bikes, Baekhyun looks like he’s seconds away from combusting. He’s bug-eyed, mouth hanging wide open, his Santa hat teetering precariously off the side of his head. Next to him, Kyungsoo just looks mildly interested while Chanyeol keeps snapping photos.

Jongin pulls his helmet on and says to Kyungsoo over the titter of the crowd, “I’m trusting you – only you! To collect the prize money.” He gets a thumbs up and a smirk in response.

He revs his engine once, watching as people scatter out of the way. Then he’s off, speeding towards home with Sehun hot on his heels.

 

 

 

  
For the first time since Loki came into his life, Jongin doesn’t park her in her designated spot. Instead, he leaves her out on his driveway next to Ayra. It’s hard to focus on getting the door open when he’s got a man like Sehun draped over his back, lips sucking faint bruises into the flesh of his neck. As Jongin struggles with pulling his gloves off, the zipper of his jacket is tugged down and Jongin nearly drops the keys in his hands when smooth leather slips up beneath the fabric of his sweater to play along the keys of his ribs.

“Stop,” Jongin mutters, “or my neighbours are going to get a free show.”

Sehun chuckles low and throaty; the sound sends a pulse of blood right down to his cock and Jongin would’ve kicked in his own door if he didn’t manage to unlock it right then and there.

The second that blasted door closes behind them, Jongin swivels around and pushes Sehun up against the wood, intent on paying him back for the bruises that are certainly blooming on his neck. Alas, Sehun seems to enjoy it immensely, soft sighs lost in the thickness of Jongin’s hair as fingers push his leather jacket off his shoulders.

Sehun pushes off the surface and walks the both of them over to the couch, shucking his own jacket and gloves as he does so. A firm hand on his chest has Jongin falling back onto the upholstery, the cushions on either side of his thighs dipping when Sehun settles confidently astride his lap. Once a biker, always a biker, it seems.

Jongin’s never been a fan of turtlenecks, but a sweep of his eyes up the expanse of Sehun’s chest and across the broadness of his shoulders has him changing his tune. Soft fabric stretches tight across a toned chest and Jongin just wants to touch.

“Clothes are meant to be taken off,” Sehun quips, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

“That eager, huh?”

Sehun doesn’t even deny it. Instead, he leans down to steal a kiss before roughly shoving Jongin’s sweater up until Jongin is forced to lift his arms to let him take it off.

“Now it’s your turn,” he says, tossing the sweater over his shoulder.

 _This man will be the death of him,_ Jongin thinks. “You’ll be the death of me,” he says, and rids Sehun of his turtleneck. Something shiny catches his eye and all of his brain cells decide to stop functioning.

“What’s this,” he asks dumbly. His cock twitches in his pants.

“It’s a navel piercing,” Sehun answers. “Pretty sure you know what it is.”

“Is it new?”

“No,” Sehun replies, idly running his fingertips down Jongin’s stomach. It skims the waistband of his jeans dangerously slowly. “I just took the jewellery out for a while. I put it back in after that first time we kissed. If you like this, you should continue to undress me.”

How he will last another five minutes is an absolute mystery to Jongin.

All desire of dragging it out flies out the window. He pops the button of Sehun’s jeans with one hand, the other reaching up to pull him down for a sloppy kiss. It’s a jumble of limbs as they hurry to get rid of their clothing – Jongin’s floor turns into an absolute mess.

He mouths along up the dip of Sehun’s navel, teeth tugging lightly at the simple barbell going through the man’s belly button. A hand travels up until fingers slip over a nipple that hardens instantly under the touch and Sehun lets out quiet groans as Jongin flicks and plucks at the nub, turning it red and sensitive.

Sehun’s cock is full and heavy against the cut of his pelvis, but Jongin ignores it in favour of slipping a questing finger between perky asscheeks. What he feels down there pushes him to the very brink of orgasm – Sehun laughs when he hurries to close a hand around the base of his cock in surprise.

“Holy shit,” Jongin croaks, half-shoving Sehun off his lap. “Let me see.”

Smug, Sehun rests his forearms on the back of the couch and arches his back, the angle just right for Jongin to see two tiny metal spheres nestled behind Sehun’s balls, right up against his perineum. Driven solely by instinct, Jongin sinks down and drops a kiss to Sehun’s tailbone, right at the tip of the tattoo, before he grabs two handfuls of supple flesh and spreads him open.

“ _God_.”

The piercing winks at him and it takes all of Jongin’s willpower to peel his eyes off of it. He traces a length of smooth skin with his eyes, tongue like sandpaper in his mouth when Sehun’s entrance twitches under his scrutiny. Between his thighs, Sehun’s cock leaks a slender thread of pre-come.

He blows softly on the pucker and hears blunt nails scrabble against the wall. Then he leans in and licks a fat stripe up from the piercing to Sehun’s hole, repeating the action a few times until the skin is shiny with spit.

“More,” Sehun demands, voice slightly muffled.

So Jongin swirls his tongue in meandering circles around the puckered muscle, sealing his lips around it for a solid suck. Above, Sehun moans and pushes back against the wet heat, thighs already starting to tremble.

Jongin eats him out until the muscle is pliant enough for the tip of his tongue to slip past the rim, curling warmly into the flesh. He wriggles deeper, thumbs doing their utmost best to keep Sehun’s cheeks spread apart. Hard at work, he fucks Sehun with his tongue, occasionally stopping to lap messily over his hole.

It’s easy to lose track of time like this. He could do this for hours, Jongin thinks dazedly. The slurping sounds positively obscene, blending beautifully with the noises that Jongin coaxes out of Sehun. He refrains from touching himself – he knows his own body well enough to know that a few tugs on his cock will have him coming all over the floor.

He’s got spit all over his chin when he deems Sehun loose enough for a finger. His index finger slides in easily and Jongin only manages to brush it once over the man’s prostate before Sehun comes with a warbled cry, come landing all over the cushions. Jongin licks him through his orgasm, languid slides of his tongue in and out of his fluttering hole. He has to buy a new couch, but he’ll willingly buy ten more if that means he’ll get to make Sehun come all over those, too.

“Stop,” Sehun gasps, shivering with the aftershocks. “Jongin, fuck, stop –”

“Do you really want me to stop,” Jongin asks, biting at the flesh of a cheek. He slips his thumbs into Sehun and stretches him out just enough to push the tip of his tongue in. “I will if you do.”

“I want you to fuck me,” Sehun manages, head hanging heavily between his arms. “There’s stuff in the back pocket of my jeans.”

Jongin gives Sehun’s hole one last kiss before he shuffles away and hunts down the supplies. It’s a small packet of lube, but Jongin is pretty confident Sehun’s already wet and stretched enough to not need any more than they have.

He gets the condom on first, not wanting to have to deal with the package when his fingers are slick with lube. Sehun climbs off the couch on shaky legs, gesturing for Jongin to return to their original position.

With lube poured over three fingers of one hand, Jongin holds Sehun steady with the other as he slides two into him. He works him open slowly and relentlessly, making sure to crook his fingers just so whenever he pulls them out. By the time the third finger joins the others, Sehun’s already managed to work his cock back to semi-hardness, heaving chest flushed with heat.

Out of nowhere, Sehun reaches out and extracts Jongin’s fingers from inside him. Before Jongin can blink, Sehun sinks down onto him in one fluid motion and Jongin swears he can feel the piercing pressed against the base of his cock.

Sehun sets a blistering pace, the roll of his hips as smooth as butter. There’s power in his thighs from years of racing and Jongin digs his nails into the thick muscle as Sehun rides his way to a second orgasm. His cock ruts against the ridges of Jongin’s abs, the flushed head leaving glistening streaks in its wake. The sight is so filthy that Jongin chews on his lip hard enough to draw blood.

“I’m not gonna last long,” he warns, a moan welling up in his throat when Sehun clenches down tight around him.

“Then come,” Sehun pants, a bead of sweat sliding down the slope of his neck and into the hollow below. “I want to feel you.”

Grabbing onto slim hips, Jongin fucks up into him hard and fast – just a few thrusts later and he’s coming, dick pulsing as he spills into the condom. Sehun’s breathing stutters at the sensation and Jongin reaches down to press gently against his pierced perineum – Sehun comes with a choked cry, back strung taut and come spurting all over Jongin’s chest.

Exhausted and fucked-out, they don’t move for the longest time. Sehun stays slumped over Jongin, mindless of the mess they’ve made of themselves, forehead resting on the slope of Jongin’s shoulder. Eventually, Jongin softens enough for gravity to separate them and the tackiness of drying come has him nudging Sehun off.

“Go shower,” he says. From across the room, his phone pings. “I’ll clean up here and join you in a minute.”

Sehun shuffles off towards the bathroom obediently.

When Jongin finally finds his phone, he snorts at the message he’d received from Baekhyun.

_When you two are done, come back – there’s Christmas cake that Camilla is insisting you eat. You’ll need to replenish your energy after, I’m sure? ;)))))_

 

 

 

  
That’s how Sehun finds himself welcomed into the ranks of Jongin’s biker gang as the ninth member. He still doesn’t race much, perfectly content with working behind the bar and riding his bike to and from work. He does, however, willingly consent to friendly races with the other members, teaching them little tips and tricks that he’s picked up over the years. With his help, everyone – even Jongin – has managed to shorten their times. He becomes the gang’s secret weapon, only taken out when the situation calls for the impossible.

When Jongin finally tells Camilla about their new relationship, she gives him the biggest hug she’s ever given him and kisses him square on the forehead.

“Your mother would be happy to see you this happy,” she tells him, eyes bright and smile fond. “She would’ve liked him a lot.”

Jongin glances over at where Sehun’s fixing three drinks at once, looking sexy as hell with his mussed hair, lined eyes, and the sleeves of his sweater – wait, isn’t that Jongin’s? – rolled up to his elbows. Sehun catches him looking and gives him a soft smile that Jongin returns instinctively.

“I think she would,” Jongin agrees.

When winter melts into spring, they start heading out on their bikes every Sunday evening, letting Loki and Ayra bring them to one secluded place after another where they spend hours talking, eating, and getting to know each other on a more intimate level (they’ve taken to bringing a backpack of necessary items with them whenever they go on one of these trips). When flowers start to bloom again, Sehun moves in with him and Jongin doesn’t stop smiling at the sight of their motorcycles parked next to one another for at least two weeks.

 _It’s nice_ , Jongin thinks one day. He gets to go home with a wonderful man every night, gets to peel those skinny jeans off those toned legs whenever he wants, gets to be the little spoon for the first time in his many years of dating. He’s better at cooking and Sehun is better at baking, so it’s no surprise that the house is constantly packed with their friends wanting dinner _and_ dessert.

They even get matching tattoos – a thin, red line around their right wrists to symbolise fate. It's cheesy as hell, but Jongin loves it.

Sehun is the one who says  _I love you_ first, after a race that Jongin wins by mere seconds, and Jongin returns the sentiment moments after when he finally manages to take off his helmet. Somehow, Chanyeol manages to record that moment as well.

 _It’s really fucking nice_ , Jongin thinks. Also a little sad, because he realises that Loki hasn’t been the love of his life for a while now. But Jongin doesn’t think she’ll mind, not if it’s Sehun that she loses out to.

They get stares in public, something that they’re both more than used to, but it’s for a somewhat different reason now. Instead because of the fact that they’re bikers, Jongin suspects it’s because they’re bikers that _hold hands_. He secretly enjoys the attention, but it’s clear that Sehun not-so-secretly enjoys the attention.

Jeorge and his gang return to _Spotlight_ a year and a half after his embarrassing loss to Sehun. When he finds out that his two biggest rivals are _dating_ , he spits out a huge mouthful of draught beer that Camilla orders him to mop up.

Sehun grins at Jongin from across the bar and Jongin can’t help but laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> The boys' bikes:  
> \- Jongin: [Ducati Diavel](https://cdn.motor1.com/images/mgl/j1oEl/s3/the-10-sexiest-motorcycles-of-the-decade.jpg)  
> \- Sehun: [Kawasaki Z1000](https://cdn.motor1.com/images/mgl/0bMK3/s3/the-10-sexiest-motorcycles-of-the-decade.jpg)  
> \- Junmyeon: [Agusta F4](https://motorbikewriter.com/content/uploads/2013/06/ti86170.jpg)  
> \- Kyungsoo: [Buell XB Lightning](https://cdn.motor1.com/images/mgl/PRE0L/s3/the-10-sexiest-motorcycles-of-the-decade.jpg)  
> \- Minseok: [Agusta Rivale](https://cdn.motor1.com/images/mgl/vyrp4/s3/the-10-sexiest-motorcycles-of-the-decade.jpg)  
> \- Chanyeol: [Yamaha YZF](https://cdn.motor1.com/images/mgl/3b9vx/s3/the-10-sexiest-motorcycles-of-the-decade.jpg)  
> \- Yixing: [Honda VFR800X](https://cdn.mos.cms.futurecdn.net/skYm477WTbqzbhWxaJTUi-2560-80.jpg)  
> \- Jongdae: [BMW HP4 Race](https://cdn.mos.cms.futurecdn.net/yM4GG2zaPiDuJ6DPZd2en-2560-80.jpg)  
> \- Baekhyun: [Vespa 946](https://motorbikewriter.com/content/uploads/2013/06/vespa-3.jpg)
> 
> \---
> 
> Miscellaneous: Jongin's [hair](https://78.media.tumblr.com/273e368490f522d1b3f0cf8743246f9b/tumblr_otjlrbrNzh1rrhp2bo5_400.gif), [forearm tattoo](http://nextluxury.com/wp-content/uploads/dotwork-faded-minimalist-mens-forearm-sleeve-tattoo.jpg), [truck](https://www.carmax.com/~/media/images/carmax/com/Articles/best-pickup-trucks/06-nissan-frontier-le.jpg?la=en&hash=593AEECE362D4A815365B9CD90F452896A90B272). Sehun's [hair](http://res.heraldm.com/phpwas/restmb_jhidxmake.php?idx=5&simg=201712121702025658670_20171212170135_03.jpg) and [tattoo](https://www.rachelfirasek.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/09/Back-Spine-Tattoos-for-Women-and-Men2.jpg).
> 
> Perineum/guiche piercings are legit, guys. They're actually hot.
> 
>  
> 
> [Click for Links!](https://bluedveins.wixsite.com/evoxine)


End file.
